Mug
by Emma zooka
Summary: The Definitions of "Mug" at the Precinct: 1. To photograph a person in compliance with legal obligations. 2. A drinking cup, often ceramic, having a handle, and usually used to hold special brews such as coffee from the espresso machine


"Huh."

Kate Beckett spun around, nearly spilling her 'Innocent Bystander' cup of coffee as she started from Richard Castle's sudden comment. Eyes flashing, she prepared to scold him for sneaking up on her before she realized that his expression was already distracted, rendering anything she said meaningless as soon as she spoke them. That didn't stop her, though, from uttering something with a tone akin to swearing.

"Castle!"

Castle immediately turned his attention back to her, tearing his eyes away from the very mug Beckett was holding in her hands. His expression was that of an offended child. "What?"

Beckett raised an eyebrow, experimentally lowering her mug to see if his eyes would follow. And they did.

"You know," she said, amused, "If you want the cup, you could always just ask."

Castle tore his eyes away from the ceramic mug, settling for staring at Beckett with an equally amused expression. "My, my, Beckett," he teased. "I never knew we were so far in our relationship. Sharing drinks, how cute."

Beckett didn't even blink. "I meant if you wanted to know where I got it."

"Oh…"

Beckett turned back around to her desk with a roll of her eyes, expecting Castle to sit down in the well worn chair besides her as he did any other day. To her surprise, he remained standing, gaze once again focused on the mug now nestled comfortably besides her computer. A moment passed before he spoke again.

"I always wondered why you had a cup that said 'Innocent Bystander'."

Beckett sighed to herself as Castle nonchalantly settled into the chair that he'd previously ignored before continuing, "I mean, I figured since you were the cop, you wouldn't exactly call yourself a bystander."

Beckett's eyes remained on her paperwork as she answered his unspoken question. "It's just a mug, Castle."

Castle shrugged, casually taking the cup by the handle, ignoring Beckett's incredulous expression, and holding it in front of him as if to examine it closely. "Yeah, but you're a cop."

Beckett finally turned in her chair to look full on at the writer, her expression exasperated. "I thought it was funny."

Castle raised an eyebrow, finally setting the mug back on the desk in favor of leaning expectantly out of his chair, as if preparing for a good story. "You mean," he said excitedly. "There isn't some deep, brooding, physiological connection between yourself and this mug? No _'I wish I could be a bystander of my life'_ or an _'I wish being a cop only meant catching the bad guys and no one gets hurt'_?"

Beckett shot him one of her signature glares, repeating her previous statement and making sure to accent every word. "I thought it was _funny_."

Castle sat back in his chair, visibly deflating.

"But you know, Castle." she started again, her eyes taking up a deviously sly glint the writer failed to notice. "I could always get _you_ a mug that you'd understand on a deep, physiological level."

Almost comically, Castle perked up. "Yeah?" he said, excited again. "What's that?"

Beckett smirked. Leaning back in her chair, she made a mental note to herself to drop by a ceramic store on the way home. "Oh don't worry, Castle. You'll see."

00000

Days later, a package showed up on the precincts doorstep, addressed to Mr. Richard Castle. Beckett smirked as soon as she saw the little white box on her desk that morning, casually setting it aside as she dove into the day's paperwork. Not surprisingly, the moment Castle stepped by her desk an hour later and spotted the small parcel, he immediately pointed it out with innocent interest.

"Hey! This box is labeled for me."

Beckett made a show of looking at him with surprise. "Huh." she said. "I guess it is."

Castle caught on to her act. Grinning, he said mockingly, "Aw, Beckett. You shouldn't have." As he held the box up and shook it, he raised an eyebrow when only a muffled shuffling sound came out.

"Is that…packaging?"

Without waiting for a reply, he tore open the cover of the package. A second later, his face took up a more bewildered expression as he reached in and pulled out a white mug. Bold, black letters lit up the stark plainness of one side, and Castle flipped it over to read.

_**Caution: I Need Help**_

For once in his life, mystery writer Richard Castle was left scrambling for the appropriate words as Kate Beckett smirked, turning back around to attack her paperwork once more, her mind fully settled.

"You're welcome, Castle."


End file.
